


Save the Last Dance

by kensington_queen



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Soldier Derek, battle flashbacks: beware, nurse casey, plot bunny ran away, posted as is, the dasey world war 2 au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27760627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kensington_queen/pseuds/kensington_queen
Summary: “Sam and Ralphie enlisted a couple months ago, and you didn’t say shit about that except wishing them a safe return and a reminder to write!”“Sam and Ralphie aren’t you!” Casey shrieked, shoving him with her full strength. He stumbled back. “They aren’t you,” she repeated before fleeing the yard, ignoring the concerned sound of her mother’s voice calling after her.
Relationships: Casey McDonald/Derek Venturi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	Save the Last Dance

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how this happened, but here we are. The world war 2 AU absolutely nobody asked for. This is just a writing exercise for myself to play around with. But I think it's selfish to not share it. Enjoy it for what it is. NO beta, because I'm risky like that :p 
> 
> _I'll find you in the morning sun  
>  And when the night is new  
> I'll be looking at the moon  
> But I'll be seeing you_ \- Jimmy Durante, I'll Be Seeing You

_“Save me the last dance…” his voice whispered in her ear playfully. It was always playfully, sometimes affectionately, but never sad. It comforted her like a favorite sweater, sparking a warmth in her very core. She could do anything in the world if he was beside her. She realized that now. He somehow had become so much more to her than she thought possible. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, desperate to hold on. But he was turning away, and she could no longer feel his breath on her skin. She needed him to turn back. She had to tell him the truth of her feelings before it was too late..._

+

“Casey! Dora! Lillian!” An urgent voice woke Casey from sweet, sweet deep and black slumber. Casey reluctantly opened her eyes, her body protesting movement as she sat up in her assigned bunk of the cramped nurse sleeping quarters of the HMCS Green Gables. The other nurses, all off duty, did the same. Everyone exchanged nervous glances; they could hear an alarm going off from somewhere above in the ship.

The light from the hallway flickered ominously behind Laura, the nurse currently on duty sent to fetch them; one of the emergency red lights was flashing above her in the doorway. Shadows danced across the floor with each nervous movement Laura made as she clutched her hands opened and closed.

“Ongoing scene - code B Red - ” the frantic words spurred Casey into action. She was already half dressed in her nurse’s uniform, having been too exhausted to fully change into pajamas a mere few hours ago. It took less than two minutes to be ready. The off duty nurses dashed out of their quarters, following Laura towards one of the narrow staircases.

“What’s the situation? Do we know?” Dora, a petite nurse with hair that rivaled the glow of the moon in paleness - nicknamed The Luna Angel amongst patients - asked, hurrying to keep up with the pace.

Laura shouted over her shoulder, but the words were drowned out. The alarm was blaring directly above them now. “- The German bombs have hit one of the hospital ships, we’re part of the emergency response decoy.”

Just then a terrible rattle could be heard echoing from the other side of the ship, forcing them to grab hold of the railings. Casey’s heart dropped to her stomach as she held on. The medical ship rarely got involved with active battles, they normally arrived during the aftermath to take on board the critically wounded and transfer them to London. 

The rattling occurred again, more forceful than before. They waited a moment more before pushing upwards to the next level of the ship. The putrid smell of sweaty flesh burns and blood hit Casey’s senses before they stepped into the main medical room. 

Noreen, one of the nurses who had trained back in Toronto with her, gagged. They stepped into a frightful scene, the kind that would haunt someone forever. Men, some barely out of boyhood, were laying in every possible space. Casey almost stepped on a young soldier with terrible burns across his face, all features indistinguishable except the bright blue eyes staring upwards toward the ceiling. She thought him dead until his eyes moved to look at her, agonizing tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Nurse!” Doctor Bryne grabbed her attention as Lillian crouched down to inspect the boy. “Quick!” He was attempting to do emergency surgery on another soldier who had a leg badly injured. She ran to assist, while the other nurses scattered in all directions. 

“Give him more morphine,” the doctor ordered, shoving the needle into her hand.

“Arrrgh,” the soldier whimpered as he laid on the table. “My mother. I want my mother,” he cried. 

“Shhh,” Casey cleaned his arm gently, preparing for the jab. “This will make you feel more comfortable.”

The soldier sobbed until the morphine hit, putting him under. The lights went off during his surgery as the ship rocked back and forth hazardously. Casey could only guess their location; based on the sound of gunfire and whistles, she assumed they were either in the middle of the action or just on the edge. 

“More arrivals!” A voice shouted from somewhere. “The survivors of Perryington!” 

“Perryington?” Casey repeated, a questioning look to the doctor beside her. 

He shrugged, clueless as she, turning to focus on the next patient waiting to be seen. 

Dora leaned over briefly from her station beside her. “Perryington is another ship that came to respond on scene, they must have been hit too.”

Casey nodded sharply, taking a deep breath to push away the panic that desperately wanted to take over. She could not afford a panic attack, not when there were soldiers around her in dire need of medical attention. 

An influx of haggard soldiers whooshed in a moment later, distracting her. A whole lot of them, perhaps two dozen or so, limped down into the already full medical room. Two soldiers, soaked from the cold waters outside, were dragging a body behind them into the room with shouts for immediate help. Before Casey could get a better look and perhaps assist, a terrible noise rang out overhead. A silence fell over them all as they waited with baited breath, only continuing a second later as the lights flicked on and no further noise followed. When she turned her head back towards the two soldiers and their friend, they were already swallowed by the crowd.

+

Casey felt beyond exhausted by the time the ship safely left behind the chaos of the ongoing battle. Everything ached. The tight low bun at the back of her head had sprung a headache hours ago, and the pristine white uniform she had once so proudly shown her family was unrecognizable, stained with blood and vomit. 

She swayed with the ship, desperate for sleep. They were off the shores of England, nearly ready to begin transferring patients to their destined hospitals. 

“Nurse,” a weary voice asked just as she was starting to think to head down to her bunk. Doctor Bryne stood near the surgery table, one final soldier beside him on a stretcher. “Could you help me bring this lad to recovery?” 

Though her feet felt heavy, Casey nodded, making her way over. The soldier was entirely covered in bandages and casts, with only his face partially in view. But what she could see was swollen and badly bruised, giving no clue as to what he may look like. 

The doctor saw her looking. “A soldier from the beach. Two members of his unit dragged him somehow from Perryington to us after it got bombed. They had been rescued from the shore initially.”

“I saw them when they arrived. Are his friends alright?”

“One has a broken arm, the other just minor cuts and a broken tailbone. It looks like this one here took the brunt of it.”

They carefully lifted the stretcher, walking in well practiced steps together to the recovery area. Every single bunk was filled, and more makeshift beds were on the floor. The doctor led them to the far end of the room, where a barely raised bed waited. They gently shifted him to it. The movement did not startle the soldier out of his morphine induced sleep, a slight pained snore vibrating from his mouth. 

The doctor quickly left to make rounds, but something made Casey stay behind. Her blue eyes raked over the poor soul. Did he have someone at home anxiously waiting for news, any news, of his whereabouts? A family worried for their son, a fiancé or wife writing loyally each week despite reply letters being far and few?

For the first time since she woke up, her thoughts drifted to her own soldier. Derek. Her step-brother, who had so effortlessly stolen her heart without her even noticing it, was fighting somewhere in the world. Perhaps he was even somewhere out there in the battle now, she mused with a worried frown. She glanced down at her hands, stained red with blood despite wearing gloves. 

She had no clue to his current whereabouts.The last letter she received was months ago now, when she had still been in Toronto training with the Red Cross. After Derek had enlisted the world became dull and gray. She felt useless sitting at home and studying while others were putting their lives at risk on the front line. If Derek could be brave, so could she.

“Sleep well,” she said out loud to the sleeping soldier, briefly touching his hand before starting the slow walk back to her bunk. _Goodnight Derek, wherever you are_ , she silently added, sending a prayer for his safety towards the sky beyond the steel ceiling above her. 

+

_Handsome in his shiny new uniform, standing confidently on the train platform as his father inspected him over, Derek looked at her expectantly._

_She only stared back. The words she wanted to say - and there were so many things she wanted to say - refused to come out. They were stuck in her heart; she envied the tearful ladies saying their _I love you’s_ and _please come home to me_ effortlessly as they kissed their soldiers goodbye. She wanted that too, but nothing was ever so easy between them. _

_So she stared back, her eyes speaking the words she could not vocalize. He nodded; Derek always understood perfectly what she meant, even if it was unspoken._

_George finished his inspection, clearing his throat and clasping his eldest son’s shoulder tightly. “Well son, you look good. Like a real soldier.”_

_“He is a real soldier,” Edwin said, giving his brother a good natured eye-roll. “Make sure you come back in one piece, I may act like I want to be the boss around here but… I’d rather have you in charge at the end of the day.”_

_Derek ruffled Ed’s hair, a fond look on his face. “Don’t sit on my chair while I’m gone.”_

_“Can I sit in your chair, Smerek?” Marti tugged on his pants leg, her brown eyes wide and watery. He scooped her up effortlessly, hugging her tight. She had in her hand a little teddy bear that wore an identical uniform, a gift to her the day he announced he had enlisted with the army to go fight for the Allies. It had initially softened the blow a bit, but now that it was time for him to leave, it did little to sooth his baby sister._

_“Of course you can Smarti. You and Casey will keep it safe for me, okay? Don’t let Edwin on it. I’ll know,” he smirked, his eyes meeting Casey’s again. The goodbye was fast approaching, but somehow Derek was able to act like this was just an ordinary afternoon with the family at the park instead of a train station full of families and soldiers._

_A whistle blew, signalling that it was time to board. He hugged and accepted kisses from Nora and George, promising to write whenever possible; he gave another noogie to Edwin before hugging him fiercely, and accepted a stoic hug from Lizzie with a kiss on the cheek before giving Marti an extra hug. He finally put her down, turning to Casey. The family seemed to sense the need for privacy for this particular goodbye; they took a few steps back to give them it, pretending to not listen in._

_Casey looked up, meeting his warm brown eyes one final time. The early morning sunlight seemed to bring out the golden hues in his eyes, something she had not noticed before. She committed the image of him to memory, certain to cherish it in her mind like a photograph until they met again._

_Derek,” she began, before clamping her lips shut when he gently placed a finger to shush her. Her eyebrows quirked up, curious._

_“Save me the last dance, Case,” he said in a low tone, leaning close to her ear. His breath tickled her, sending tingles of pleasure through her. “When you go out with your friends to the hall, and you’re asked to dance by the soldiers on leave. Save the last one for me.”_

_“A dance?” She asked, incredulously. He was about to leave for god knows how long, and that’s what he was deciding to use this precious time for?_

_He nodded. “Yeah, save me one. They’re a pretty serious thing, y’know. You can’t just dance all willy nilly with just anyone.”_

_She sucked in a breath, her eyes falling to his lips. “Okay,” she breathed out. “I’ll save it for you.” He grinned, stealing that breath of her’s away as effortlessly the gentle breeze blowing through the station. She burned that to memory too._

_The whistle blew it’s final warning. He gave her a cocky smile before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, pulling away before she could fully register the warmth of his mouth on her’s. With one last wink, he picked up his duffle bag, boarding the train just as it was about to head off. Casey noted distractingly that her mother and sister were both wrapping their arms around her, but she didn’t react, her eyes never leaving his._

_She held his gaze and waved, and waved, and waved until the train was completely out of sight. Only then she allowed herself to stop; she never noticed the tears falling down her cheeks._

+

Casey woke up to find that most of the other beds in the bunker were mostly empty. Only Lillian sat on her own bed, combing her long red locks. She offered a small smile to Casey, taking pity on the confused look she wore.

“They’re in the mess hall, eating. We thought you could use some sleep since you were the last one to bed.”

“Oh, thank you,” Casey replied, fluttering her eyes shut briefly before opening them again. She got out of bed, wincing as her shoulder twinged. 

“They’re sending us to shore at some point,” Lillian said. Casey looked over in her direction, noticing the Red Cross issued duffle bag on the bed in front of her. “They’re sending us all to hospitals to help out with the demand.”

“Oh,” Casey rubbed her eyes. “Well, wherever there is need.”

“We shall serve,” Lilian finished, sighing. 

Casey did her wake up routine before heading to the mess hall to grab the leftover breakfast options. She decided to take a detour on the way back to the bunker, checking on the soldiers who had not yet been taken to shore. Disappointment caught her off guard when she reached the last of the beds and saw that the soldier from the night before was gone. Her heart sank. Had he died alone last night? 

“Got transferred early morning,” a gruff voice spoke up from a few beds down. A soldier with a bandaged head was sitting up, a sling on his left arm. “First round to go.”

She gave her thanks, checking on the soldier before following the maze of hallways and stairs back to her bunker to start packing.

Casey added the badly injured soldier from the previous night to the ever growing list of people to pray for. Maybe, she thought, if she did, he would have extra divine power on his side and make it for his loved ones.

+

**Dear Mom, George, Edwin, Lizzie, and Marti,**

**I miss you guys so much! I am so sorry it’s been a while since you have heard from me.. I cannot tell you where I have been, but I promise I am safe. In fact, I have been reassigned as my ship is due to be used for a completely different mission. You'll be happy to know it is a manor house in the English countryside, far away from the immediate dangers of the French coast that I am writing to you from. I have a room with a decent bed that has soft blankets, a nice change from the ship I have been on these last months. This should be my last assignment until I am able to come home and be Toronto based, though of course nothing is set in stone.**

**Is there any news of Derek?**  
+

Haslethorn House was an opposing brick and stone manor in the countryside far from the dangers out of London, offered up for use by the Red Cross. The long driveway was lined with trees before opening up onto a vast field where the house sat at the top of the gravel drive. Casey found herself there for her new rotation. She had said goodbye to Dora and Lillian, as they themselves were sent back to Toronto. At least she had Laura. A friend was always desperately needed, especially in the times they were in. 

The manor house had turned its east wing into the hospital unit, where beds could be found in the mahogany library and the once former atrium overlooking the gardens. It was in a smaller study turned recovery room that Casey was assigned to, the soldiers there some of the most critical and requiring extra care. They had at least windows that overlooked a garden that seemed well loved, providing something lovely to look at in contrast to the dreary atmosphere of the hospital room. 

“This one has a blown leg, no use of his other one, concussion,” Barbara, the motherly deputy nurse, said, showing Casey the patients. “His name is Thomas, but whether that’s his last name or first we’re not sure. He hasn’t spoken a word.” The soldier was asleep, holding tightly his pillow like a child would a favorite toy. He looked young, barely eighteen. Casey felt a tremendous rush of sisterly protectiveness over him. He reminded her so much of Edwin, probably only a couple years older. Would Edwin find himself wrapped up in this terrible war too?

They moved down the row of six beds, McKenzie and Jenson and Phillips being introduced to her, all awake and in various stages of healing. They watched silently as they continued on. 

“That’s Lt. John O’Callaghan, burn victim. He’s subdued but will talk when awake.” Another young soldier with his eyes closed. Most of his skin was wrapped in bandages, protecting the healing process of the burns. A cut went along his right cheek, from ear to chin. She wondered what happened to him as she nodded, taking notes.

They reached the last bed, where a curtain was drawn around. Barbara’s lips twisted, a sad expression in her eyes. She spoke in a low tone. “This one is a breathing miracle. Both legs broken, his left arm too, his right badly burned. Broken pelvis. Voice is too raspy to speak, so he’s under strict orders to rest his vocal cord when he is let out of his induced coma.”

This intrigued Casey. Could it be?

Barbara pulled back the curtain, revealing the same soldier from the ship.

“I know this one,” Casey softly said. “He was aboard my medical ship during the battle. Survived the beach and the Perryington sinking.”

“We don’t know his name either. He had letters in his ripped jacket from when rescued but the ink has run together, making them unreadable. His dog tag is missing too.”

“Okay,” Casey said, jotting that information down. She looked at him a long moment afterwards. What were the odds that he would be in her hospital too? 

“When is he due to be let out of the coma?”

“Not for at least a couple more weeks. He has suffered a lot of injuries. His body needs time to heal,” the deputy nurse sighed, drawing the curtain and hiding him from view again.

“Let me show you where we keep this lot’s medicines and the schedules for it,” Barbara continued on, forcing Casey to follow. She cast a departing glance, oddly curious to know more about this soldier. She shook her head, hurrying to catch up with Barbara. 

+

**Casey. Derek is missing in action.**

+

It had been a beautiful summer day when life changed forever for the McDonald-Venuri clan. They had spent it together, taking advantage of school being off and the adults having a rare day from work. 

Casey could see in her mind perfectly, even now, George working the grill while her mother sat in a lounge chair on the back patio. The radio had been on in the kitchen, a song by the Andrews Sisters drifting out through the open windows. Marti and Lizzie were chasing each other around, laughing loudly as Edwin sat with pen and paper at the picnic table, lost in thought. 

Casey and Derek had sat beneath the big elm tree in the yard, leaning against the trunk with their shoulders touching. She had only just admitted to herself that Derek meant more to her than being a step-brother. A disastrous double date at the local dance hall a couple weeks prior had opened her eyes to that. 

“Whatcha starin’ at Spacey,” he asked, following her line of vision towards the bright blue sky. There was nothing there to be looking at, not even a cloud. She missed his affectionate smile, turning to look at him just as he schooled a neutral expression onto his face.

“I was just thinking how it’s your fault Jimmy Donovan hasn’t called me for a second date,” she accused, huffing. 

“How’s it my fault he experienced your clumsiness and wisely went running in the opposite direction? A guy only has two feet Case, and you crushed them both at the hall!”

Casey pouted. “I did not _crush them_!”

“I witnessed it myself, that was definitely your very pointy high heel that stabbed him.”

She had been distracted by jealousy, watching Derek twirl around Patty Hamilton on the dance floor. It had taken her quite by surprise, and as a result….

“Don’t forget the spilled drink on his pristine suit,” Derek laughed, nudging her. “His face was priceless.” That happened during dinner. Casey had watched Patty flirting with Derek all throughout the meal. It manifested towards the end via a very aggressive, _gentle_ placement of her glass back onto the table after gulping it down.

“It was an ugly suit, I did him a favor,” she sniffed dramatically, smiling when Derek laughed again. When had that become one of her favorite sounds? 

“I need to watch out around you,” Derek said. “Can’t be having you ruin my suits.”

She snorted. “Suits? You barely dress up for dates. When do you ever wear a suit?”

He looked away, avoiding her gaze. “Suit, uniform, what’s the difference when it’s what you wear for work?”

Her heart clenched. She leapt up from her spot on the grass, backing away. “A uniform?! What do you mean, a uniform!” 

“Casey,” he jumped up after her. She took another step back, aware that their family was very much watching. 

“Der-ek!” Her voice broke on the last syllable. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

They stared at each other. The world could have exploded around them and neither would have blinked. She bit her lip hard, drawing blood as she started to shake her head in denial. 

“No, no. This is a sick joke, you’re messing with me to be an asshole - ”

His face twisted in anger. “How is me signing up to defend our country being an asshole!” Derek stepped closer, his brown eyes a dark shade of angry. “Sam and Ralphie enlisted a couple months ago, and you didn’t say shit about that except wishing them a safe return and a reminder to write!”

“Sam and Ralphie aren’t you!” Casey shrieked, shoving him with her full strength. He stumbled back. “They aren’t you,” she repeated before fleeing the yard, ignoring the concerned sound of her mother’s voice calling after her. She ran all the way to her room, locking the door behind her. 

“Casey, please,” Derek banged on the door. She sank to the floor, leaning against it and holding her knees to her chest. “Casey, please come out,” he begged. “Case.” She laid down on her carpet as the bangs continued, fighting her instinct to open the door. This was just a bad nightmare. It wasn’t real.

Eventually the bangs on her door slowed, before stopping all together. Just on the other side of the door, Derek leaned, refusing to move even when George and Nora tried to talk to him. He slept the entire night outside her room.

+

The weeks at Haslethorn Manor blurred together. Casey started to read the newspaper each day outloud to the patients, and would take a few moments each day to talk to the sleeping soldier in the last bed. Maybe he could hear her, she thought. If he could, maybe he would realize he was not alone. He was safe. 

Outside the manor wall, across the English Channel, war raged on with Derek missing. How could the world continue on without him? It seemed terribly unfair. 

The telegram last week from her mother and George had been short and to the point. Sleep - already a fragile friend - evaded her each night as she tried to chase the different nightmares of Derek’s fate away. She wrote a letter to him every night after she went off duty, a cold cup of tea beside her as the night’s sky slowly changed shades. 

_Dear Derek, Hello Derek, Where are you Derek?_

_I miss you. I need you. I love you Derek._

The words she could not have said out loud to him came freely with a fountain pen in her hand. She had nowhere to send them. But she wrote them, one after another, spilling her worries and emotions down for him to read when - if - he ever made it home. She owed him that. She owed it to the both of them to be honest. But the ticking clock in her bedroom each night reminded her, taunted her, that he was missing in action and it was probably too late. He would never read her precious letters. Maybe she would burn them, releasing the words towards the heavens. Would he forgive her for being a coward?

“Are you okay Miss?” John asked one morning as Casey made her rounds. She had tried to hide a yawn with the gauze in her hands. He looked at her, concerned.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Casey wrly said, checking on his burns as she changed the bandages. They weren’t looking too great, but they were at least in better shape than the week before.

John shrugged. “You deserve to be checked in on too. It can’t be easy to smile with everything you see.”

Casey paused, touched by the kindness. “Thank you, that’s very kind, I’m as okay as anyone right now. Now, lean back,” she helped him do so, “and get some rest. I can get you some more paper later for letter writing after you do so.”

She checked on Jenson and McKenzie next, careful to keep a cheerful smile as she did so. She didn’t want to cause them any stress, worried that she might be projecting a physical black cloud. 

The soldier in the last bed was her final patient. She approached him cautiously, stopping the medical cart in front of his bed. The doctors had taken him out of the coma a week ago, saying it was time for his body to decide to wake up. He had the other night, according to Edith the night duty nurse. She had changed his bandages as usual, noticing that his hand was tapping in an attempt to get attention. He apparently was very active at night, according to Edith, awake and restless. 

“I try to ask him yes and no questions, just to help stimulate the mind while his eyes are bandaged,” she had told Casey. So far for her he remained asleep each time she came during her rounds. His body, she realized, was probably all sorts of confused and couldn’t tell night from day. 

“Good morning,” she chirply said to him, ignoring the fact he once again appeared to be asleep. She looked over the perfectly placed bandages, satisfied with Edith’s handiwork. She hummed a tune, a Glenn Miller number that reminded her of innocent days with Derek and their friends going out to the cinema and the carnival that came every summer. 

They once had shared a dance together at the outdoor hotel patio while on a vacation with the family. The band had played Glenn Miller, and they had spent most of the evening under the stars bantering while trying to make the other foolish in front of the other attractive teenagers staying at the resort.

“Are you going to join us today in the land of the awake?” Casey asked, pulling up the blanket for him. The study room of the manor was particularly drafty. Silence from the soldier. “No?” She sighed, tucking him in. “Alright then. I hope your dreams are pleasant. We’ll be here waiting for you.” 

She pushed the cart away, still humming away. 

The soldier’s eyes opened a moment later, tapping his hand too late. She was already out of the room.

+

_There was a loud ringing in his ears. Derek blinked, shaking his head in an attempt to get it to stop. Smoke wafted all around in the air, tickling his nose and burning as he breathed. A bomb. They had barely moved out of the way in time before it landed several yards away. Half of the other unit was completely gone, their bodies painting the beach with their guts and blood._

_His own unit hardly looked better. Farren was nowhere to be found despite only being a few steps behind Derek a moment ago. The shrapnel hit Smith in the neck. He was on the ground where he had stood, the weight of his gear pressing his body deep into the sand as the blood spilled out and stained it. Derek took a breath in an effort to still his heart._

_He didn’t want to die. Not here. Not now. He had to get home alive, not be buried as an unknown casualty on the battlefield or in a box. He crawled, destination vague. His unit begun to move as one again as the aftershock wore off. Move or die, Derek thought as he saw his squad leader shout. Bullets flew over their heads. Harris got hit twice, once directly in the helmet, the other his chest. Derek paused briefly to close his friend’s unseeing eyes, before continuing the dreadful journey towards the other side._

_Planes darkened the sky above. There was no way to tell if they were an ally or enemy. They blurred together as Derek rolled on to his side just as another bomb landed somewhere up the beach. He clutched his front pocket, where her letters were tucked safely away above his heart. The thought of her at home, having to learn about his death spurred him forward._

_~_

_They were rescued by the USS Perryington, a mighty warship with the promise of passage to London. Jones and Barry were by his side when they entered the ship’s canteen, eager for a hot drink as they mourned the loss of half of their squad. One of his legs was definitely broken, propped up on a free stool until the nurses could examine it. All around them men chatted and cried and stared at nothing. Derek compared it to a funeral at a bar._

_The party was cut short._

_He hadn’t taken a sip of the drink yet before the ship rocked suddenly, a blast echoing all around. They’d been hit. Panicked shouts of terror surrounded him. There was a frenzy for the exits, it was only sheer luck that he and his two squad mates decided to opt for a different route; the main one everyone was racing for got hit with cannon fire._

_“Venturi, let’s go,” Jones pulled him through their chosen exit; he couldn’t feel anything but a burning sensation on his right arm as more cannon fire blew into their location. A steel frame rushed down, brushing him hard on his left side._

_Jones got him outside, where the ship continued to rock, hit in all directions._

_“She’s going to sink!” Barry yelled; it was starting to rise up on one end._

_“Jump!” Jones screamed, tugging Derek down into the cold sea below. It hit him like a million sharp needles at once. “Swim Venturi!”_

_He was flailing in the open water. “Go on,” he urged them. “My leg is broken from the beach, just go!” He felt dizzy. This would be it, the place he would die. One more soul lost to war, one more to perish in the waters, the final resting place among fish._

_“Like hell!” Barry grabbed him, pulling him desperately towards safety, though that did not exist. They waded to wreckage of a shot down plane that was floating, grabbing hold of what they could. It was an enemy plane, but in that moment it was the savior they needed._

_They held on for what felt like hours until a small ally rescue boat arrived, searching for survivors. The USS Perryington rapidly sank, too heavy and loaded down to have a fighting chance of making it. It sucked in all that was unlucky to be in close proximity; they watched in horror as they could hear the screams for help start to fade, leaving behind an eerily silence._

_Derek was pulled up into the boat, landing hard on to the floor. He groaned, trying to move into a better position._

_“Don’t move, you’ll make it worse,” someone said, pushing him back. A blanket hastily was retrieved from somewhere - he could feel the coarse material against his arms - an attempt to make his cold bones warm._

_His legs were definitely broken from the beach, his arm badly burned. The pain started to press in on all his senses. He noted that the sky looked chalky gray as another plane came into view. The smokey smell from the beach had followed the boat; he choked. Continued shouts and gunfire from the planes above rang in his ear. It was impossible to block it out._

_Another bright blast rocketed the world around him, his vision beginning to waver._

_As blackness took hold on the edge of his vision, his mind gave him a gift: the memory of Casey on the platform, holding on to him and looking into his eyes before morphing into a fantasy of dancing together to Glenn Miller somewhere far away from the shaky little rescue boat._

_He had to stay alive. He owed her that dance._

+

“He’s awake,” McKenzie greeted Casey the next morning. Once again sleep had decided to avoid her. Dark circles graced her tired face. No news from the military, according to the last telegram from the family. Bleakness seemed to be her only reliable constant these days. 

“Who is?” She asked, carefully placing pills into little cups. Rain pelted the windows outside, sending yet another draft into the room. Maintenance staff had neglected to fix it despite the many polite requests Casey had done. She wondered who their boss was. The lord and lady of the manor, perhaps? How could she get hold of them?

“Last bed,” McKenzie said, accepting his cup with a grimace. He would be moved to the main recovery area soon, she decided. His injuries were healing at a nice progressive rate compared to the others in their small wing. 

“How can you tell?” Casey cast a look of doubt towards the other end of the room. There appeared to be nothing occurring in the last bed, just the usual stillness. 

“He’s humming,” Jenson interjected, tilting his head. “Can’t you hear it?”

She handed him his cup too, straining to listen. Only the sound of rain caught her ear’s attention over the usual loudness of the ground floor area. “No,” she admitted, handing John his cup before approaching the soldier’s bed. She paused. 

“Hmmm hmmm hmmm,” a brand new sound rose up quietly from the bed, a sound that lifted her spirits greatly. “Hmm, hmmm.” The tune sounded oddly familiar. She knew it, though from where she could not recall. 

“Good morning,” she merrily said, letting him know she was beside him by touching his free hand. “Are you finally awake to say hello to me? One tap for yes.” She held her breath.

 _tap_  
( _Yes_ )

“Well,” Casey smiled, despite the fact he could not see it. “I’m so glad you are. I was getting quite envious of Nurse Edith you know. I thought you might have something against me,” she teased, fluffing his pillow with great care. 

_tap tap_

“No you don’t have something against me?” She shook her head, her mood incredibly cheered to finally see this soldier awake. “I have to put away the cart, but perhaps when I read the newspaper for the boys you’ll still be with us. I’ll be right back, okay?”

_tap_

+

McKenzie was moved to the main room, followed by Jenson. Other patients took their places in the small study room. Casey read the newspaper whenever she got her hands on it, sometimes switching it up to read poetry or passages of the bible to the ones who wished for it. She had lost faith a bit in a god upstairs with all that she had seen since joining the Red Cross - since Derek had gone missing. She wouldn’t begrudge those who did believe, so each night she led a quick prayer and offered up hope for a better tomorrow.

The weather turned warmer and sunnier, even with endless bleak news from the war front. The letters from home arrived slowly and steadily. They were beginning to plan a memorial service for Derek, they wrote, for when she came home. Did she want to speak at it? She ripped that letter to pieces, crying silent tears as her roommates slept peacefully in their beds.

Each day reminded her of the summer day Derek told her he enlisted. If she could, she would paint the sky black so that everyone would be just as miserable as she. 

Still, Casey started to take the patients out to the gardens to read to them. 

Only the soldier in the last bed, nicknamed Hushed by the others as he was still on strict orders to not speak, did not get to enjoy the outdoors. Casey tried to ensure that he got included, as she believed it was important to his recovery to be treated the same as much as possible. Out of all her patients, she felt the most connected to him. Perhaps it was because she had seen him being dragged onto the medical ship. Each passing day that there was no news of Derek made her more determined to do the best she could for the men in her ward. If she could not help Derek, she could at least help their recovery time so that their own loved ones could see them soon. 

“Do you have loved ones waiting for you?” She asked him one afternoon, halfway through the summer. They had both been at the manor for three months. His legs were no longer in a cast, physical therapy the next hurdle for him to get through to gain back his strength. His arms were scheduled to be unbandaged in the upcoming week. The doctors were hesitating on the no speech order, trying to determine if the damage from battle had begun the healing process; his head still resembled a mummy. 

_tap_ he quickly hit the railing of his bed. 

“I have a soldier out there somewhere,” she solemnly told him. “I don’t know where he is though. He hasn’t written in a long while. We think he could be dead,” the words spilled out before Casey could stop them. She hadn’t spoken much of Derek to any of the other nurses. Everyone had someone they loved fighting. Everyone was hurting from the pain of worrying and missing their beloved one. She did not want to add to their emotional burdens. “I’m sorry, you should be focusing on your recovery, not listening to me prattle on about whether or not he’s gone from this world.”

She got up from her chair, where she had been reading the daily paper as one of the patients napped while the others were getting fresh air. 

_tap tap_

Casey lifted an eyebrow at the firmness of the no tap. “I’m glad at least one of us is optimistic. Get some rest.”

The soldier didn’t tap again. 

+

_He must be dreaming. Lucid dreaming. Or delirious and on the verge of passing on to the pearly gates. It sounds like Casey is beside him, chatting his ear off like she always does. Something about being here? He frowned. What an absurd question. Of course he was here. He can’t see anything except the constant black shadow caused by the bandages on his face. The reason for them is a hazy guess at best, though he’s pretty sure it might have something to do with a bright blast he saw before passing out. He can’t speak either, but that’s fine by him. His throat hurts. Water is painful when it's forced down. They - the ones he hears but cannot see - tell him he must swallow through the sharpness._

_She’s still talking, the voice that sounds like Casey. The rain has turned to a dreary mist, she says, a depressing weather report for the remainder of the week. His legs are lifted against his will, moved to test out how they have healed. He feels weak. But he is alive. The voice whispers above him, but he is starting to feel overtaken by exhaustion. It’s hard to stay alert when the world is always dark. He drifts back to sleep, pretending it really is Casey gently touching his hand._

+

“But I can’t go on leave,” Casey protested, upset. “Who will watch over the ward?”

“Miss McDonald, you need to rest too. You have been non-stop since you arrived here in spring,” Barbara gave her a smile. “Go to the town, shop, flirt with soldiers at the pub. You deserve it, dear.”

“But,” Casey looked out the window of the office. A group of soldiers were kicking around a ball as some of the nurses cheered. Her mind drifted to the soldier in the last bed, due to get his final bandages off. 

“Go Miss McDonald,” Barbara gently said. “You cannot help others if you don’t help yourself too. I don’t want to see you in the ward until next Friday.”

Dejected, Casey sighed. She nodded. “Alright.”

+

“Alright young man, let’s get you sat up. Can you speak at all for us?” A woman’s voice asked him, different from the one he had grown accustomed to. The other female voice reminded him so much of Casey. He liked to pretend it was her that was speaking to him. His sanity was probably on the brink, but he needed to hold on to something that could help him feel normal. “Go, ahhhhh.”

“Ahhhh,” Derek repeated dutifully. His throat hurt from disuse.

The voice made him repeat several different sounds. Paper rustled. Note taking, Derek assumed. He needed water. Could he ask for water?

“Wahh,” he croaked. “Wahhh-ter.”

The rustling stopped. 

“Water?” A different voice, a male voice, repeated.

“Water,” Derek whispered. His voice sounded rusty and foreign to his ears. When did he last hear it outside of his head?

A small cup was thrusted into his hand a second later. He was guided to his mouth, the water dribbling out as he gulped it. He coughed. 

“There, there, careful now,” the woman’s voice admonished playfully. Someone took the cup out of his hands. Maybe it was her. “We’re delighted to hear you. Do you know where you are?”

“Don’t overwhelm him,” the male voice sharply said. “We are going to check your bandages. You were badly beaten up.”

Slowly as if afraid he would break, the bandages were unwrapped from his face. A cool, tender hand touched his cheeks. 

“Now your eyes,” the male voice said. “You have been wrapped up, young man, due to exposure to a blast, for three months.”

Three months? Derek searched his brain, trying to place the date. 

“We’re going to take them off, and check your eyes.”

He felt the air on his skin as the rest of the bandages slipped off. He blinked, seeing that he was in a darkened room with other beds. An older gray haired woman and a thin, bespectacled man stood on either side of him, each looking at with him great concern.

“Can you see us?” The man asked, flashing a light into his eyes. 

“Yes,” Derek croaked. 

“Your injuries have mostly healed, though I am afraid you will have burn scars for the rest of your life,” the doctor said in a matter-of-fact tone. “You need to start physical therapy too, but I think it’s safe to assume you can be moved into a different section of the ward. Nurse Graham will wheel you there later today.”

He nodded, the movement bringing awareness to how stiff his body was. He felt exhausted, having not sat up in a very long time. His eyes wanted to close. The nurse saw this, helping him to lay back down. 

“Sleep,” she said. 

He did.

+

Casey’s week and a half away from the ward did little to help her rest. She went shopping in the small market town nearby, visited some local sites, and went at least once to the local pub where soldiers sat at the worn out tables with tall pints of beer in front of them. They fawned over her and the other young women, pulling them up to dance while singing patriotic war tunes. She let herself pretend as she danced with one soldier after another, that it was Derek. It was easy to do if she closed her eyes briefly as the soldiers spun her around. But each time she opened them, it was a blonde or redhead or dark haired soldier in front of her with the wrong colored eyes. 

_Save me the last dance_ he had whispered before leaving. Her skin overheated at the memory, hot tears prickling in her eyes as she stumbled away from the dance floor as a slower number began to play. Glenn Miller. She couldn’t do it, she could not give someone else a chance to have a memory with her to that song. 

She fled the pub, leaving the jolly sounds of men singing off-key and cigarette smoke behind. The small town was quiet as she made her way back to the little inn she had decided to stay in for the week. When she slipped into bed, the ghost of Derek kept her company until she fell asleep, as he did every night since he left. 

Two days later she returned to the ward.

+

“It’s alright, one step at a time,” the encouraging voice of the pretty nurse said beside him. Derek was in the physical training room, holding on to railings as he tried to walk a few small steps. He had a long road ahead before he could walk and run as he did before, the medical team told him, but he _would_ recover in due time.

He glanced out the window during a brief pause in his walk. A nurse had her back to him, newspaper in hand as she read to the small gathering of soldiers in garden chairs under the shade of the trees. A nurse had read to him, he remembered. While he was in bed. Maybe it was her with the voice that reminded him of Casey.

He turned his attention away to take another small step forward. 

~

Casey was in the garden, reading. She tried to keep her voice even as she read, her mind focused elsewhere. She had been greatly disappointed to return to find that the soldier in the last bed had been replaced with someone new. 

He was in the physical recovery area now, the soldiers in her ward told her. Able to speak a little and move. She wanted to try and find time to see him, if only to confirm that he would be okay with her own eyes. Then she could move on and give the other soldiers the same care and attention she had given him. 

“Thanks Miss McDonald,” one of the soldiers said as she finally closed the newspaper. “Your voice sounds like an angel.”

The others agreed cheerfully. 

“Oh shush,” Casey laughed, tucking the paper away. “It’s not so angelic when I’m shouting at you for skipping your dose, is it?”

The soldier blushed. “Even then,” he insisted. 

Casey rolled her eyes. “I’m going to get some lemonade ready. Don’t get up to trouble while I’m gone, boys.” 

“Okay Miss McDonald,” they intoned back. Most could barely move on their own. They all knew she had nothing to worry about. She shook her head, laughing. Movement inside caught her eye.

Sarah was inside with a soldier at one of the physical therapy equipment. His back was to her as he made slow steps down the narrow platform. She gave a wave to Sarah, walking away from the window just as the soldier slowly turned around to shuffle back. His eyes caught her side profile. 

~

Derek’s world froze. Casey. That was Casey walking away from the window. It had to be the same long brunette hair pulled back in a braid and the cute little nose that wrinkled when she got annoyed with him. “Are you okay?” The nurse beside him asked, worried. “We can stop if it’s too much and try again after a rest.”

He stared at the retreating form as she disappeared around the corner, trying to find his voice. “Wh, wh,” he croaked.

“Shush,” the nurse assisted him back to the wheelchair off to the side. She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Let’s get you some lunch.”

He was wheeled off, away from the room just as Casey arrived back in view with a tray in her hand. 

+

It seemed that the universe didn’t want her to check on the soldier from her ward. Each time she had a moment to pop into his new recovery ward, he was out for PT, or speech therapy, or being seen by doctors, or or or or.

Eventually her attempts slowly stopped, her full attention needed in her own ward as patients started to be switched out more. 

There came a day two months later, when Casey’s assignment was due to be reviewed and mostly likely sent back to Toronto sooner than later, the lord and lady of the manor arrived.

They were younger than most of the staff had assumed, glamorous with their well worn, well made clothes and their crisp English accents. The lady took the time to speak with each soldier, while the lord chatted with the staff to find out what more could be done for the makeshift hospital. 

Later that night, at dinner, rumors swirled of an event in the making. 

“Lady Connors is going to throw a big party for the soldiers,” Edith excitedly said. Her eyes were luminous in the dim light of the staff dining room. “An unofficial ball to give them cheer. A band is coming, all the way from London, and she’s inviting her high society friends to raise more money for the war effort.”

“They’ll be pleased to see ladies out of stuffy uniforms,” Laura leaned into her hand, a dreamy look on her face. “I’m sure we’ll have to work it technically.”

“No one will object if we’re asked to dance,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Especially if it makes the soldiers happy. I hope a few of them ask us, some of them are so handsome!”

“Oh yes, that soldier in physical therapy is easy on the eyes,” Laura agreed. “Think he’ll be up for dancing?”

“Maybe,” Sarah shrugged. “His recovery is slow going but he’s made some amazing progress in a short time.”

Casey listened, eating her dinner quietly. “I’m being reassigned back to Toronto soon,” she said. “When is this supposed party happening?” 

“Soon,” Laura told her. “Like next week soon. Lady Connors wants to make sure the soldiers she spoke to today are still here so it’s being hastily thrown together.”

“How do you know that?” Edith asked. 

“I bet Howard told her,” Casey teased. Howard was one of the household staff members whom Laura had taken a fancy to. 

Laura merely shrugged, coy.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll still be here Casey,” Sarah said, taking a sip of water before standing. Her next rounds were starting soon. “One last memorable hurrah before going home.”

+

Derek overhead the guys chatting about a dance occurring while trying to nap after the frantic visit from the manor’s owners. 

“The nurses will be there,” Larson peered at his hand of cards, makeshift poker chips on the table between him and the other players. 

“I hope that blonde one is up for a dance,” Williams waggled his brows, folding. “I could get lost in those green eyes of hers.”

Derek rolled his eyes, out of view from his bed. 

“Nah the brunette one, I’d want her to dance,” Larson countered. “Angelic voice, gorgeous eyes.”

“Maybe it would cheer her up,” a different soldier said. “She’s always smiling but it doesn’t stop the sadness in her eyes.”

“She has a soldier missing, I think. At least that’s what McKenzie said.”

“Lucky bastard,” Larson threw another card down. 

“Poor bastard if he’s missing,” Williams solemnly said. They fell silent for a lost brother, unaware it was the quiet soldier on the bed a few short feet away.

Derek took in a sharp breath, exhaling. He had to be at that dance. He’d have to maybe charm the nurses, because he knew he wasn’t exactly in the best shape yet. They might argue and say he needed rest.

He was sick and tired of rest. It was all he ever did. No, the dance was what the doctors needed to order for him.

+

“Coming Casey?” Edith called from the doorway, her hair carefully curled beneath her nurse's cap. 

Casey stood up from her desk, straightening her uniform out. They were on duty for the dance, to keep a watchful eye on the soldiers to ensure they didn’t over strain themselves from the activity. They could hear band music in full swing as they walked the staircase down. The house had been transformed back to its original glory with expensive decorations, waiters walking around with trays offering drinks, and high society party goers taking advantage of a night like old times.

The pair made their way to the ballroom, normally closed off to the patients. The band was set up on a stage at one end, soldiers already in front of it with some nurses and socialites in their arms as the instruments swelled in a fast pace.

Casey checked in with Barbara before taking up her post on the edge of the dance floor. She suspected that her spot was on purpose. The deputy nurse was always reminding her staff to let themselves enjoy life when they could. As a soldier approached Casey she noticed that her boss pointedly looked away.

“Dance, Miss McDonald?”

+

Derek watched from deep within the crowd as Casey accepted the offer to dance from Larson. He stood with his crutches, aware of the nurses carefully eyeing him. They were worried he would overexert himself. 

He could feel his bones protesting from prolonged standing, but the thrill of seeing Casey kept him eager to withstand the ache to sit down. He shuffled closer as Casey danced with one soldier after another, the band playing popular songs from the Andrew Sisters to Billie Holiday to Bing Crosby.

The band’s singer started to croon an old favorite of Casey and Derek’s, the song they danced to together one last time before leaving to serve. He saw the moment she recognized it, freezing still. Hope bubbled up inside of him, hope that perhaps there were songs she associated too strongly with him to dance with someone else. He shuffled more quickly towards the floor, ignoring the nurse’s concerned voice asking him to go back and sit. 

+  
_”I love this song,” Casey dreamily sighed as Derek twirled her around. They were out for the last time, his train early in the morning. She admonished him when he came up with the idea of going out the night before deployment._

_“Relax, Case, this is worth the lack of sleep,” he had replied. She shook her head smiling, letting him convince her to go out. She wore an emerald green dress with heels to match, a vision of curls and a bright smile. He was the luckiest fella in town with Casey McDonald on his arm. She fussed with his uniform, straightening out invisible wrinkles._

_“I’ll be seeing you,” Derek sang along softly, slightly off-key and just a touch mockingly. “I’ll find you in the morning light,” he twirled her around, her eyes wide and laughing. “I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you.”_

_Casey spun back into his arms, her cheeks pink. “Der-ek!”_

_“Casey,” he mimicked. She stared at him for a long moment as they stopped dancing. There was something she wanted to say, he could tell. But she only sighed, silently taking his hand. He understood perfectly what she meant._

+

Casey stood still as the singer’s voice transported her far away back to home, when she had danced with Derek to these very words. She needed to get away from the crowd.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me miss, may I have this dance?” 

She sucked in a breath. That voice. Casey knew that voice; she heard it in her dreams every single night since he left. It was the soundtrack in her head, the voice that guided her when all felt lost. She heard his voice when she made silly mistakes, when she tripped his laughter echoed in her mind fondly. 

Slowly, she turned.

Derek’s cocky smile greeted her, filling her vision until everyone around them melted into the background. “I’m hallucinating,” she muttered to herself, smoothing her uniform unconsciously.

Derek tilted his head, leaning on his crutches. “You sure about that, Spacey? You did promise me the last dance before I left. I remember that perfectly.”

Casey blurted out the next thing that came to mind. “You can’t be here, you’re supposed to be missing!”

“I’m very much here,” he reassured her, getting closer. He took her hand with his, using the crutches as support. The touch shocked her skin. He frowned. “Wait, does the family think I’m dead?”

“Oh my god” she whispered. “It’s you.” She flung her arms around him tightly, causing his crutches to fall forgotten to the floor as he caught her. “Derek.”

“Hi,” he said, pulling back to examine her. Her blue eyes were rimmed with red, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. Dark circles stained her pretty skin, indicating sleepless nights. Gently, Derek thumped away a tear that freed itself. “Dance with me?”

“You’re injured,” she replied, glancing at the crutches. She felt eyes on them, realizing everyone was looking on. 

“I can still dance with you,” Derek countered. “Come on, Case? Please? Just one dance and I swear to you I will rest until you deem me well again. You’ve already done an excellent job of taking care of me.”

“What?” Casey asked, confused. “Wait a minute. How long have you been here?”

“Dance with me,” Derek repeated. “I promise I’ll tell you. But please? The song is almost over, and that nurse over there looks ready to intervene.” 

“Alright,” she conceded, seeing Barbara standing nearby watching. “But only swaying.”

He nodded, pulling her closer to him as the singer started the last half of the song, the feel of her in his arms grounding him in the present. It felt like he was tasting oxygen for the first time. The colors around him seemed more vivid, the sounds more loud, now that she was in his embrace again. 

There was much to be talked about. But as the song played on, and she shifted in his arms, his lips crashing down on top of hers in a kiss that expressed everything between them, it could wait. They had all the time in the world. He would never leave her again. 

+

**Dear Mom, George, Edwin, Lizzie, and Marti.**

**I’m coming home to Toronto by the end of the month. Will you pick me up? I have a surprise for you…**

+

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> They live a version of happily ever after. George and Nora cry in relief seeing a still injured Derek hobble beside Casey when they arrive in Toronto. They get married and Casey tells him about how she saw a soldier get dragged in to the medical hall of her ship, and they make the connection.


End file.
